


Starved, Hungry, Desperate

by Prinzenhasserin



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Fever sex, Hurt/Comfort - Character isn't used to being loved and shown tenderness/affection, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Sibling Incest, Touch-Starved, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-20 18:23:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21286133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/pseuds/Prinzenhasserin
Summary: Inuyasha finds himself alone, fevered and wounded.
Relationships: InuYasha/Sesshoumaru
Comments: 7
Kudos: 781
Collections: Multifandom Tropefest 2019





	Starved, Hungry, Desperate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LuciferxDamien](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/gifts).

> Thank you to meatball42 for the quick SPaG beta!

Inuyasha was sitting in a tree surrounded on three sides by the bend of a river, trying not to suffocate from the heat of the fever. Nothing could compare to the burn of it, the sheer overwhelming fever of his body. He tried to stifle his panting, but that only made him more breathless, more hot, more uncomfortable. Kouga had always described his heats as something pleasant, something to be envied. Inuyasha, who was slowly losing control of his entire body, had no idea why the mutt enjoyed things like this. Or maybe the heat was worsened by the slash in his side—the only reason he wasn't leaving a trail of blood to lure all manner of youkai and beasts was the tightness of his fire-rat robe. It clung to his body like a second skin, entirely wet from both the blood and the sweat. The mixture of fluids was slowly drying to a coagulated mess that'd be a bitch to get out later. But he couldn't soak it in the river, yet. He couldn't leave the tree. There was no way he'd be able to keep alert and fight off youkai who would be drawn in by his scent. 

There was an itch underneath his skin, similar to that feeling of meeting a superior fighter, something Inuyasha had never seen as a sign to stop. It had no origin that he could tell but it kept niggling in his senses anyway. He was horny, too, and aching for that elusive sense of intimacy he had never had. Then again, he was maturing and always horny. The ache in his gut was never so pronounced, however.

The bark of the tree was rough on his skin, the cool air not enough relief on his fever-wet skin. The fever sweat came in cycles, an overwhelming heat where he could just stop himself from humping the tree followed by a hint of relief that was always too short to regain awareness of his surroundings. He wanted— he wanted— he wanted something, desperately, and yet he was too out of it to know what else.

In his fevered mind, he thought he could see a white figure closing in on him but it could as well have been a ghost. The outline was indistinct and he imagined the smell of his brother, sharp and tangy. It could only be his imagination running wild, because then he felt fingers carding through his hair. Soft, gentle fingers stroking alongside his ear, soothing the worst pains of the fever: the ache of loneliness.

Inuyasha sighed, and turned his head into the hand. It was okay to show vulnerability to a figment of his imagination, wasn’t it? If Sesshoumaru was really here, he’d have finished him faster than he could yelp. The slice on his side wasn’t healing after all.

“What have you done to yourself, little brother?” he heard. “At this point, you’ll end up knocked up by every youkai in the vicinity.”

Inuyasha nuzzled into the warm gentle hand he was hallucinating. “Won’t,” he managed to press out between pants. Answering his words was a long curling finger scratching the back of his head, and Inuyasha could not help but moan. It felt too good! The warmth of another person next to him was as tantalizing as anything he could imagine. 

The sharp bite of nails to the back of his neck brought him back into his body. He felt the pleasure coursing through him, the fever heightening all his senses, and bliss spreading out from the simple touch. “Aren’t you needy?” chuckled the voice. It sounded like Sesshoumaru, too, and he could smell the faint wisp of lightning and wood that always accompanied him. 

Inuyasha whined. Of course, he was needy, this was his dream after all, and it had all of his favorite things. “Don’t stop,” he said, and when Sesshoumaru didn’t suddenly disappear into mist and dreamscape like he usually did, Inuyasha added, “More, please.”

“You beg so prettily,” Sesshoumaru told him. “A pity you’re so stubborn and rambunctious the rest of the time. This Sesshoumaru could get used to you always on your knees.”

Inuyasha whimpered. It wasn’t like he was the one who started their fights! That had always been Sesshoumaru, with his demands of Tensaiga, or calling him hanyou, or just, you know, whenever they came across each other in the wilds. 

Sesshoumaru stopped touching him. Confused, Inuyasha opened his eyes. His brother was before him, floating on a ball of energy. It didn’t look so much like a dream when he could see each individual lash framing his eye. His unique smell was difficult to imitate, too. And yet Inuyasha could barely believe his eyes— there was simply no way—Sesshoumaru wouldn’t— Inuyasha had never been touched like this before. And Sesshoumaru was more likely to be giving him bloody wounds than— whatever this was.

Now, though, his brother’s gaze was heavy on his face, but his touch had been gentle, more careful than any other he had known besides that of his mother. He wanted more of it. He wanted— he wanted— Something inside him wanted nothing more than to roll over for Sesshoumaru, and maybe that was what had finally caught his attention. Inuyasha didn’t mind. Inuyasha would probably have rolled over sooner, if that netted him someone more of his brother’s gentle touches. Who knew that claws with deadly poison could scratch his head so well! If he could have purred, he would have.

“Please,” he said, pressed out between pants, and then the fever caught him again in its grasp, and the ache and desperation cycled back. He curled into himself — he was at the dubious mercy of his brother now, who could decide at any moment to finish the job a random youkai had started.

Sesshoumaru looked blank and as beautifully untouchable as always. He was immaculate, his tail slung over his shoulder like an oversized fur coat, his hair pristine white and his clothing without a single speck of dirt, even though his wasn’t self-cleaning. Inuyasha knew what kind of picture he must have made next to him. For a brief moment, Inuyasha thought Sesshoumaru was going for his sword, and he panicked because he wouldn’t be able to defend himself.

But Sesshoumaru was going for his mouth, pressing his thumb into the small groove on his lip. At the first touch, Inuyasha’s entire body shuddered. Somehow, his brother’s touch was soothing the desperate need inside of him. With pleading eyes, he looked up at Sesshoumaru. 

His brother’s gaze was even heavier now, his eyes dark and unfathomable. Later, Inuyasha couldn’t say what flea bit him, but in that moment, the only thing he could do was touch his tongue to his brother’s finger. Perhaps he thought his brother would let go? But he didn’t want that anymore either.

Sesshoumaru growled, and then— one blink, two blinks— descended upon Inuyasha.

The tree Inuyasha had picked as his resting place had just been wide enough for himself. He had not expected company—nobody had accompanied him on his small errant. Now, with Sesshoumaru in the same space, the tree was definitely too small. There was no way to move, however, and Inuyasha could not have less of a desire to do so. He could not believe that Sesshoumaru really wanted him, really was touching him, but now that he was doing so of his own free will, Inuyasha knew better than to stop him.

And suddenly, Sesshoumaru’s mouth was on his mouth, as if he couldn’t resist either, and the only thing Inuyasha could do was sink back into the bark of the tree and take it, take his brother’s kiss.

His mouth was soft, which Inuyasha had not expected. Somehow, Sesshoumaru’s every body part seemed like it should be so sharp as to cut glass, and here Inuyasha was, somehow healthy and hale. 

Sesshoumaru’s tongue licked over his mouth. It was both wet and reassuring, like he could somehow tell the direction of Inuyasha’s thoughts. Inuyasha opened his mouth to explain, but instead of letting up, Sesshoumaru dove in. Then, Inuyasha was devoured, there was no other way to describe it. His brother was ferocious and exactly what Inuyasha needed. His fever crescendoed, climbing higher and higher. Inuyasha could not suppress the whining noises escaping him.

Sesshoumaru was enveloping him so completely, he could only see white, and yet the ache in his chest, in his groin, in his very bones, didn’t, wouldn’t subside. When Sesshoumaru broke the kiss to concentrate his attentions on Inuyasha’s neck, where his scent was the strongest, Inuyasha panted, “I need—” and he knew exactly what he needed, had dreamed of it for a while now—since he’d first seen his brother’s cock when he’d been bathing. The cock had been huge, bigger than any Inuyasha had seen and Kouga’s pack hadn’t been shy about undressing—but the most fascinating feature was the knot that was bigger than Inuyasha’s fist. He’d wanted it desperately then, and he hadn’t been fevered. With the fever in his mind, he could not articulate well how much he wanted to be fucked until he forgot all about their past relationship, until the only thing he thought about was his brother’s cock. 

He was shaking, desperate for something more, and he could not say more than, “Please, more— I need—” And yet, somehow, even though Inuyasha did not know how to communicate, his brother had already opened his fire-rat robes, was carefully stroking down his naked side, along the edge of the wound the youkai had given him. It was only sluggishly bleeding now.

Sesshoumaru growled, and then proceeded to lick the wound— Inuyasha tried to squirm away, but the tongue was soothing some of the pain, and the wound seemed to be trying to knit together faster. “A disgrace, how you take care of yourself, hanyou. No simple-minded youkai should get the drop on you. Only this Sesshoumaru is allowed to hurt you like this.”

He proceeded to show Inuyasha exactly what he meant, and twisted his nipple. The sharp instant pain somehow brought him back into the present—the constant agony of the fever receding under the sharp pain. “Fuck,” Inuyasha yelped. And yes, that was exactly what he wanted Sesshoumaru to do to him. “Please,” he added, and when he still had breath left and it hadn’t all been stolen again by the fever of the heat, “Fuck me, please.”

The first touch of Sesshoumaru’s hand on his cock hand him almost shouting, it was so good — too much almost, more than Inuyasha had thought could ever be possible and yet not quite what he had asked for. His legs were shaking and his flushed chest covered in sweat, and his brother’s eyes were as dark as the night, bearing into his soul.

Sesshoumaru’s hand stroked softly over his cock, petting it almost, like the small mousy thing it was next to his own magnificent example. And then his hand was dipping deeper, collecting the wetness from the head of his cock and then more saliva to make it slippery. Inuyasha felt himself spasm, there was nothing he wanted more, and yet he was so scared to wake up and have it all be a dream.

Inuyasha couldn’t take it anymore. He had to close his eyes under the weight of his brother’s piercing gaze. But there was no blocking out his voice, cool and detached and inebriating in the worst way, telling him that he could take it, would take Sesshoumaru like he was born to do it. The words of praise were doing him in, Inuyasha could die in peace now.

And somehow, when his brother pressed into his hole, Inuyasha felt the give. His brother’s cock felt as big as it looked, pressed against his rim, and yet at the same time, Inuyasha could take it. “So desperate,” Sesshoumaru said, his words scolding, but his tone very pleased. “You’re sucking me right in like a needy slut.” 

Inuyasha felt himself twitch. Somehow, his brother knew exactly what would excite him most. He tried hitching himself on his brother’s cock further, but he was pinned and could only squirm. The cock was soothing his burning insides, taking care of his desperate fever, and yet Inuyasha felt like he needed more, needed completion, before he could be satisfied. And what he wanted, what he wanted was Sesshoumaru’s knot, was Sesshoumaru to mark him as his, was Sesshoumaru’s touch forever. For now, the steady rocking of his cock into Inuyasha’s body was enough. 

Please. Yes. More. Single syllable words. The only ones his mind could form, the only ones that seemed important when he arched and twisted into Sesshoumaru’s claws. He tried to get more, just more, so close, and his brother was leaning close, hot breath against his ear, a bite to the soft fur that made him gasp and shake before Sesshoumaru’s voice, rough and jagged and almost cruel, was in his ear.

He was so full, filled to the brink with Sesshoumaru’s cock and it would fill him more soon, when his knot would swell and plug Inuyasha up until he could taste Sesshoumaru’s come on his tongue.

"Such a slutty brother." A twist of pale, thin, stronger-than-expected hips, the hot slide of skin against silk and cocks against one another, brutal and desperate.

"Hiding away in a tree, trying to seduce all youkai in the surrounding areas," another thrust and Inuyasha was sobbing for it now, vision blurred with sweat that stung his eyes and the large, looming image of Sesshoumaru, fringed at the edges by night. He was so hot he felt like he could explode — he couldn’t feel his arms, didn’t want to feel his legs and all he cared for was the rough, dirty, tight friction that was driving him wild. And it was all so unfair and imprecise because sometimes Sesshoumaru drove into him fast and sometimes slow, and he couldn’t match his rhythm to direct him, to hurry him. He just had to lay there and take it, take his brother fucking into him.

"Not anymore. This Sesshoumaru forbids it. You are mine now." His brother finished, and bit down hard on Inuyasha’s neck.

Inuyasha was shouting and on the edge, and Sesshoumaru wouldn’t help him tip over.

“So pliant, taking it so well,” Sesshoumaru murmured, and Inuyasha wasn’t sure he was meant to hear.

In a blind haze of sheer lust he was making sounds that he had never heard before. Dirty little grunts and whimpers and broken, sharp sounds like splintering wood—and then he felt Sesshoumaru shiver and jerk.

The knot was swelling, and he could feel the pressure down to his bones. His voice was unrecognizable. Sesshoumaru rocked into him, not stopping even with the bulge on his cock. Inuyasha didn’t know—he couldn’t—how was he supposed to survive Sesshoumaru leaving him behind again?

It was hard and fast and rough and so good, and something broke inside him. A huge, hot rush of sensation—it was everywhere, he could feel it flooding his insides, more and more and more. He could feel every nerve, every inch of skin, every place he had been touched and everyplace he hadn't. Inuyasha choked out a scream that was some garbled version of his brother’s name and came, like he had never done it before, shaking every muscle loose and liquid, hot wetness between them. And Sesshoumaru was relentless, continued rocking, didn't look away, continued staring at a messed up Inuyasha—and he had to close his eyes because the intensity of his brother would kill him. He felt wet and weak and dirty, oh so dirty, and somehow that made all of it even better.

* * *

Morning filtered in gray and misty.

Inuyasha didn't even have a blissful moment of unknowing; he snapped awake to instant realization. He smelled like Sesshoumaru, his scent was all over him, and he wouldn’t be able to get rid of it for years, no matter how well he scrubbed himself. His brother was gone, had been gone for a while. The tree he had been sleeping in was now protected by some of Sesshoumaru’s power and looking down, he could see a heaping pile of dead youkai—the very same youkai that had wounded him earlier.

Inuyasha held his nose into the wind—the trail had vanished like only magic could vanish a trail. But Inuyasha wasn’t new at this, wasn’t new at finding people who didn’t want to be found.

His brother had cared for him once, and now he was never going to let it go.

  
  



End file.
